Rocket
by SlytherinFlame
Summary: Conspiracy? Deceit? Romance? Sadism? Betrayal? Just another day in the life of a Team Rocket Agent. Characters from Manga/Anime/Games.
1. Prologue

Hi.

So...this is _Rocket_. It came from a combination of too many RPs, too many Diet Dr Peppers, and too many odd nightmares.

Lots of pairings here because I plan on making this a_ long_ story.

Proton/Domino

Proton/Petrel

Archer/Ariana

Giovanni/Domino

Mondo/Butch

Cassidy/Butch

Proton/Archer

Wendy/Domino

Petrel/Wendy

Giovanni/Ariana

Silver/Lyra

Jessie/Cassidy

Jessie/James

Attila/Bashou

One sided Marauder/Domino

This story is not all about shipping, however. There is actual plot. These are just 'ships that are possibilities at the moment. I'm still sort of deciding. They may be full on or just mentioned in passing.

Anyway, this story is rated **M** for language, violence, sexual stuff, mature situations...etc. All that good stuff.

Questions. Concerns. Seek my inbox please. I'm happy to answer to anything.

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, as awesome as that would be. All rights to the games, anime, and manga go to Nintendo, their creators, et cetera. I'm just a mere fangirl.

* * *

Prologue.

It all starts with a smirk. A tug at the corner of his lips. Uncaring, cold eyes that smile on their own. Maybe a small, cruel laugh.

**He is merciless.**

A spritz of cologne. A tug on his jacket, tailored for his handsome build. A tip of his hat, black as night and his heart.

**He is fearless.**

He ambles out into the open full of secrets, feigning wearing his heart on his sleeve like a badge of honor the way those sensitive types do on a regular basis. He scours the streets on Goldenrod City for vulnerability. A girl without friends, without love, without even the excuse of chocolate. A lonely sheep. His favorite prey.

**He is Proton.**

"What's on the menu tonight?" he wonders.

Proton reaches the corner of Radio Tower Drive and Main Street. He meets up with a taller man with a lankier build, dressed in a tan trench coat and fedora.

"Still picking up chicks in that ridiculous get-up, aren't you?"

Petrel looks indignant. "Shh! Bitches _love _the Italian mobster look. Have you seen the ones Boss brings back to his office on a regular basis?"

Proton rolls his eyes. "Whatever floats your boat. Just make sure to stay far away from the girl's I'm after or you'll be certain to scare them off."

"Look who's talking. Once you bring out your little snack, it'll be end-game."

"Once you bring out your little _make-up kit_, it'll be endgame. Because they'll realize you're_ gay_."

"Not gay, thank you. Just fabulous. You know that."

"Otherwise you'd be all over me, wouldn't you?"

"You're so unbelievably cocky!" Petrel accuses, and then hesitates. "Er…"

Proton bursts out laughing. "You're only proving my point."

"Smartass."

Proton continues chuckling a while longer, then finally shoves his hands in his pockets. "Good luck to you, sir. Back at Base bright and early then? We have that meeting after all. Unless you planned on staying—"

"Staying? _Ha__!_ You know me better than that."

"Maybe I do. Maybe I don't. You're questionable. Anyway, you do know about the meeting, correct? Wendy sent out faxes and everything."

"Calm your tits. Of course I saw it. Archer's headings drive me nuts. '_From the desk of Archer Apollo…'_ like he's trying to sound important or something. We all know Ariana's really the big cheese around here."

"So you'll be there?"

"Mhm. I won't necessarily be _awake_, but someone's bound to drag me there so…"

"Alright then."

And he's off again, leaving his fellow stalker, his partner behind. He is riding solo for the night, with shining eyes the equivalent of lighthouses, guiding the weak in a direct path towards him and all his incessant lust. He seems to attract everything, and everything cannot resist, like gnats hovering over rotted meat. He waves some away, the old, the ugly, the infantile…until he is left with the crème of the crop.

_"Where to tonight…?"_

He wants a fresh kill tonight. No exceptions. Proton gets what he wants when he wants. He was raised this way, born this way. And so is the way he is.

Three options.

One. Proton returns to Base and tempts a young, barely eighteen year old grunt to come fix something in his office. And then he pounces like the rapid, half-crazed jungle animal he is.

Two. Proton goes out to a club, buys some skank that can get his blood going a coupla classy drinks, walks her back to her cheap, cramped, and leased apartment, and sneaks back out at three in the morning.

Three. Proton pays for some bimbo off the street.

He shouldn't even be trying. The girls flock to him after all.

But option one is certainly the cheapest. And it's not like he's loaded with money or anything. His last failure, the debacle at Slowpoke Well, kind of took the edge off his paycheck.

…So he goes with option one.


	2. The Acidly Sarcastic Women

"Yeah, you heard about that?"

Domino nods. "Certainly did. But Ariana told me first, so yeah."

Wendy says, "_Great_," like it pains her to speak.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh…nothing."

Domino hates when Rockets have so much pride that they can't admit that something's hurting them, or annoying them, or bothering them in some way. She doesn't know what they should be proud of anyway. Everyone that works there is a lying, conniving, son-of-a-bitch, herself very much included. It's all part of the job description.

"You don't like being old news, do you?" Domino narrows her violent, violet eyes at Wendy, and Wendy looks away.

"No. That's not it."

"_Sure_ it isn't."

"Seriously, it's not. By the way, I really enjoyed how you sent me your latest budget outline all drawn out in purple crayon. Yeah, that wasn't a total _bitch_ to scan or, you know, to show the Boss in passing or anything—"

"You showed the Boss that? It was a _joke_!"

Wendy grins. "He thought it was funny. Almost had a spit-take with his coffee. We were in the Board Room, I remember distinctly…"

"You're a liar."

"You're good at detecting a liar."

"No. You're just a terrible liar."

"I know."

"That's why you're in Human Resources."

"Oh would you _shut up!_" Wendy's voice quickly jumps from playful to angry, and Domino certainly knows when her goose is cooked.

"Fine, fine. So about this meeting…"

"What about it?"

"Do you know who's RSVP-ed?"

"Oh. All the _good_ people, rest assured. Lemme see. Butch should be there. And Mondo. And who's Hun's partner again? That hulking, blond guy? Ah, Attila, right. He'll be there. And—"

"You're joking, right? Because that seems to be a list of all the men in this organization that I can't stand."

Wendy grins again. "Yeah, yeah. It's a Johto operatives meeting if you must know. Which means the Execs and their divisions…you…the Marauder—"

"Ick. That creep—"

"And a couple others. You've had these little shin-digs before. Shouldn't be anything different from what you're used to."

"And what's the meeting about?"

Domino has a feeling that Wendy's ability to put up with her never-ending curiosity is not going to endure much more of this round of Twenty Questions.

"The hell if I knew. I'm just a lowly secretary, practically handcuffed to her desk by the overlord Giovanni…"

"_Often_ handcuffed to her desk by Giovanni, you little slut."

"That was _one _time, okay?" Wendy exclaims, but then turns a faint pink and adds, "But I've said too much, haven't I?"

Domino is absolutely disgusted. "Yes. You definitely have."

* * *

"Closing tiiiime. The best time of the daaaaaay~!"

Mondo, much to Domino's embarrassment, decides to express himself through interpretive dance.

"You're a _disgrace_, Mondo. Now, would you quit it?"

"No, Donny-mino. You liiike it!"

"I most certainly do not."

Mondo stops for a moment, measuring Domino's unflinching face. She closes her fingers into fists and is about to sock him when suddenly…_whack_!

Someone does the job for her.

A tall, blond woman, in a uniform similar to Domino's, emerges out of the Third Floor Lounge and strolls out into the hallway, stepping over Mondo's sprawled, twitching body and taking a bit of time to straighten her long, white glove.

"So. _Fucking._ Annoying."

"Finally some peace and quiet," Domino says, wrinkling her nose at Mondo's figure. "How goes it, Cassidy?"

"Well enough, I s'pose. What's with him today? Isn't he usually pretty well-behaved?"

"Yeah. Normally. The scientists are testing some new drug on him now. So he's been pretty loopy lately," Domino replies, shrugging. "I was going to use my own brand of sedative on him, but you beat me to it."

"Ah, I see. Always happy to help," Cassidy takes out a tube of cherry ChapStick, swipes it across her lips, and then stows it back in her pocket. "I won't worry about him too much then. He's the Lab's problem. But at least they're not cloning anymore. Remember when we had two Tyson's running amuck?"

"Dear _Arceus_, don't remind me!"

Cassidy laughs, and, to Domino, the sound of Cassidy laughing is an instant headache, due to the fact that it's the single most obnoxious sound in the world. And that's not Domino's opinion. It's true fact. Here's the math. Cassidy's voice is like Butch's voice, but exponentially more grating on the nerves. And much higher pitched.

But life will go on when the laugh ends. And everything returns to normal, except…_scarred._

Cassidy asks, So, got yourself any plans tonight, girl?"

"Eh…"

"Eh?"

"Maybe."

"You don't."

"Nope."

Domino expects Cassidy to be considerate, but once again is let down. She actually curses herself for getting her hopes up because, really, the idea of Cassidy being nice is much like the idea of the Boss promoting Jessie and James or a successful capture of Mewtwo. It just would never happen, but still Domino would continue to humiliate herself.

"Have fun staying here then, Dom-ster!"

And Cassidy, with her rambunctious laugh and overwhelming personality issues, rode off down the hallway, carefully treading around Mondo so as to avoid giving him a view up her skirt but still crushing his restless fingers.

Domino, after Cassidy leaves, glances down at the poor scapegoat who remains on the carpeted floor in a daze, still twitching ever so subtly.

She sighs. "I think I'll go rearrange my office again."


	3. Technical Difficulties

2. Technical Difficulties

_Mm, why don't you step into my office? _

Her name is unimportant, but her body isn't. That's Proton's thinking. He barely even looks at their faces anymore. But he never forgets a body. Ever. And, of course, Petrel always says that's because he doesn't see many.

Truth is he's addicted to females.

At least, that's his theory for everything. It explains every misdeed, every misdemeanor, and every particle of his being. He is addicted to curves, both the skin and the negative space. He likes to drag his nose along the mountains and the valleys, hovering, blowing softly to make her shiver. He likes to give kisses, light as Butterfree along the ridges of collarbones and listen to sighs in tune with heart beats.

And then he turns the fire on. Wrestling matches combine with full out wars. He stays on top but he likes a girl that can put up a fight, a legitimate challenger. But not an equal. He would never pick on someone his own size out of fear. Above all, Proton fears his own downfall. He fears blushes and displays of his own humanity.

The monster is his own identity and he will not argue with it. The mask of cruelty that he wears will never budge while on his watch. He super-glues it to his face with the strongest adhesive he can scrounge up with his sharpened claws.

Tonight, his prey is a lowly grunt. A new recruit actually. He took her file from the Record Room, a place he had the power to abuse. He never used the files for his job, only for after hours. They were surprisingly handy. He could call up people on disposable phones; he could find their houses and wait for them to leave.

But he is not a stalker. He is a bored predator. He is apathetic, nothing to be worried about. Not quite an offender, but a connoisseur.

She bites her lip as she knocks on his ever-ready door. "Sir?"

"Get your ass in here."

Proton has never been one for manners.

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir." She is flustered. That familiar blush that he sees sported on feminine faces around him shows, and his hunger begins.

"I have a…er, broken hard drive in here, I think. You're from technological maintenance, correct?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Quit calling me 'sir'. Makes me feel old."

"…Yes, s—uh, sorry."

"Whatever." He points over to the hard drive which he had previous moved from on top of his desk, hit a couple times with a hammer, and trashed on the floor. "I found it like this. Some rascal's been in my office, I guess."

He lies. She believes.

"O-oh, that's_ terrible_…"

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

Proton is rude to women. It's a habit he created for himself a while ago. He likes being rude to women, though. It makes him feel like he's in charge. He gets a rush from their destroyed, angered faces. But they don't fight him ever because he's intimidating. They'd be fighting a losing battle. Because Proton only picks fights he knows he can win. He is not a man that hates women, on the other hand.

The grunt bends over to take a closer look at the mixture of shattered metal and mangled plastic all lying in a heap that only sort of looks like it was once a state-of-the-art technological innovation. Proton, unsurprisingly, stares at her backside all the while, enchanted.

"S-sir? Oh. Not sir. I mean…um, what should I call you?"

"Master is preferable."

The grunt looks at him incredulously. "_Master_?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding around here?"

Her faces falls a bit. "Uh, no, s—master."

Proton smirks his villainous smirk. "Good. Because I don't kid around. _Ever_. Take my word for it."

She gulps a little. "Right."

"Why are you so nervous?"

She stares in horror as he ceases leaning on the far wall of his office and starts to approach her.

"Do I scare you?"

"Uhh, no."

"No, _what_?"

"No, master."

"Much better."

Proton has fetishes sometimes, too. Obviously he likes to dominate; however, he also has this thing for sass. He respects those that can stand up to him. In a way, he likes a woman that provides a challenge.

This girl is proving to be incredibly boring, though very attractive. What, with her short, teasing skirt that made him practically squeal with excitement? The pale pink hair that sashays around her face and her…

"I can't fix this."

"You—what?"

"I can't fix this. I'm sorry. I'm only in training for tech."

Proton sees the gaping hole in his otherwise foolproof plan right away.

"Dammit. Well, could you maybe…I dunno, _try_ or something? Surely they've taught you _something_."

"I could call a superior?"

And the moment's utterly ruined. This angers Proton quite a bit.

* * *

"Um… Hi, Bitch."

"Aah! Domino? And it's '_Butch_'…n-not-"

"Yes, this is Domino."

"…Not 'bitch'. Whatever. Oooh. Hi Domino! How are you? Have you seen Cassidy? Is everything okay? You're alright, right?"

"Yes, yes. _Calm down_. Geez. Everything's fine."

"But…but…"

"But what?"

"But you never call me unless it's an absolute emergency and you have no one else to turn to. Because…because you hate me and stuff. Cassidy said so, after she told me _she_ hated me and—"

"_Butch_!"

"Wh-what?"

"Do us all a favor and shut up. I need you to listen to me here, alright?"

"Listening."

"They've been testing that wonder drug on Mondo. Ironic, huh, seeing as its for pokemon? You'd think they'd test on pokemon before humans…but whatever. That's not the point. Thing is, he's been acting a little…_outlandishly_ lately and your girlfriend—"

"Cassidy i-is _not_ my girlfriend—"

"I told you to shut up."

"Shutting."

"Anyway, Cassidy took him down. We're on the Third Floor and he's just been called in for maintenance reasons. I'll cover for him, but can you maybe come and collect him? As much as I cannot stand to be within a ten meter radius of him, I would feel bad if he got himself hurt because he _does_ fix my computer on a regular basis."

Butch pauses a moment. "Can…can I talk now?"

"Sure."

"I'll come get him then! Be there in jiffy."

"Great. I'll be here." She is about to hang up.

"W-wait! Domino!"

"…Hm?"

"Would you maybe consider…and don't take this the wrong way or anything but…er. Would you maybe consider going out some time because you're kind of hot and I don't get to—"

"Later, Butch. Mondo's all yours."

And she hung up.


End file.
